Pretty Lady
by kjt1
Summary: Sara gets more than she bargained for when conducting an interrogation. GSR


**Title:** Pretty Lady  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Disclaimer:** ::closes eyes and wishes really hard:: Nope, CSI still does not belong to me.  
**Spoilers:** Post Bloodlines  
**A/N:** The idea for this fic came to me in the middle of the night – you can imagine what my dreams are like, can't you? ;-)

---

"Come on, Andy, we know you were there last night," said Sara with a sigh. They had been in the interrogation room for the past thirty minutes, talking to Andy Marx about the murder of his girlfriend. Grissom and Brass were both in the room, but Sara was leading the questioning. Brass leaned against the door to the room watching and listening to proceedings carefully, while Grissom stood in a back corner, his eyes raised to the ceiling more often than not.

"I already told you, pretty lady," replied Andy, "I haven't been to her place in two weeks."

"Your prints are all over her place," Sara pointed out.

"I bet they are, pretty lady," grinned Andy smugly. "I can imagine you found them _everywhere_, we uh… liked to experiment in unusual places, you know?" He waggled his eyebrows and Sara fought to keep her face from showing the grimace she felt inside.

"So, you're still maintaining you haven't been in her apartment in two weeks?" she pressed and Andy nodded. "Why not?"

"I dumped her," he said proudly. "Not pretty enough for me, not when there are girls like you around, pretty lady."

His constant taunting was making Sara uncomfortable, but she was determined to continue the questioning. Every time Andy called her 'pretty lady', his tone of voice caused Grissom and Brass to trade worried glances, but both knew that Sara would not thank them if they pulled her out of the room, or even made her take a backseat while they handled the interrogation.

"How did she react to you dumping her?" asked Sara, trying to keep her tone neutral.

"She wasn't happy, she was crazy about me, you know?" he smiled, his facial expression making Sara want to gag. She knew he had been in the victim's apartment the previous night and she was convinced he had killed her. They felt they had enough evidence, but they really wanted a confession to make it easier. Brass had already arrested Andy on suspicion of murder, based on the strength of the evidence and he had waived his rights to a lawyer, confident that they had nothing on him and that he'd be out of there in no time. He had initially resisted arrest, prompting Brass to slap a pair of handcuffs over his wrists.

"You know we were in her apartment early this morning, after her neighbors reported a disturbance?" Although she posed it as a question, Sara didn't expect an answer and instead continued, "We found something fairly interesting while we were there." Andy raised his eyebrows, but said nothing. "You see, she was pretty friendly with a couple of her neighbors and they told us about you."

"Of course they did," he winked, "I'm memorable. A lot of her neighbors are single and they're always trying to talk to me whenever I'm over there. You can see why, can't you, pretty lady?"

Sara bit back her retort and took a breath to allow herself to focus again. "You want me to tell you the interesting thing we found in her apartment?"

"Sure, I love to hear the sound of your voice, pretty lady."

"We found a glass, with your fingerprints all over it," she stated flatly, watching his face closely to gauge his reaction.

"And that's _interesting_? Wow, pretty lady, you must have some kind of sheltered life. I can show you some _real_ interesting things."

In the corner of the room, Grissom clenched his hands into fists and then pushed back into the wall, sorely tempted to haul Sara out of the room. Brass met his gaze and shook his head gently, both men silently agreeing that they needed to wait and see how Sara dealt with the situation. However, they both felt themselves getting angered by what was happening and they tried to divert their attention; they still listened, but neither watched particularly closely, knowing Sara would pick up on anything in Marx's manner that she could exploit.

"You don't think it's strange we'd find a glass with your fingerprints on it in an apartment you claim you haven't been in for two weeks?" queried Sara, drawing out her question so that there was no doubt of her meaning.

"Not really," chuckled Andy, shrugging his shoulders slightly, "she probably kept it for posterity or something. You know, keeping it as some sort of shrine while she tried to get me to take her back."

"She's been trying to get you to take her back?"

"Of course," he grinned. "She's been calling –" He stopped suddenly, as soon as he saw a glimmer of triumph in Sara's eyes and realized that she could check phone records. "I, uh… I never answered her calls. Caller ID," he added hastily.

"Well, let's get back to the glass for now," said Sara. "You proposed a nice theory, but there's a small problem with it."

"What's that, pretty lady?" he asked with a leer.

"Well, we found the glass in her dishwasher, which hadn't yet done a wash cycle. Now, if she wanted to keep it for posterity, I don't really think she'd be intending to wash it, do you?"

"No idea, never could figure out the workings of the female mind, well, not hers anyway. But anyway, that doesn't prove a thing. She never did keep a particularly clean place, so that glass will have been there for two weeks."

"See, that's where you're wrong," said Sara with an eerie smile. "In the dishwasher we found two glasses and two dinner plates. The remains on the dinner plates matched what we found in the victim's stomach. In other words, she used those plates the night she died. Now, the way I see it, she invited you over for dinner and, after eating, she cleaned up, loaded the stuff into the dishwasher. Those things are expensive to run though so, if she was anything like me, she'd wait until she had a nearly full load before she switched the machine on. Either way though, that glass had not been in her dishwasher for two weeks. You'll have a hard time trying to convince a jury it had, by the way, if that's what you're thinking."

In their respective positions in the room, Brass and Grissom were feeling proud of Sara and the way she was handling things; she had set up Andy nicely. They were so busy directing smiles at the ceiling that neither of them were now watching the suspect and both missed seeing the look of annoyance, and anger, flitting through his eyes as he realized that Sara was beating him.

At the table, Sara diverted her gaze to her notes for a few moments, but her attention was drawn back to the suspect when he spoke.

"You wait until your dishwasher is full before you switch it on, pretty lady? I'm thinking that has to take a while, since I get the feeling you don't have company that often. It might even take a couple of weeks before it's full. You know though, I'd be willing to help you out. Just say the word and I'll show you what you've been missing, what it is to _enjoy yourself_."

Sara cringed before looking up to meet Brass's worried eyes. She nodded her head slightly to tell him she was fine and he nodded back before looking away, satisfied that Sara was still in control. Seeing this exchange, Grissom looked back to the ceiling, not wanting to watch the look of satisfaction on the suspect's face at Sara's inadvertent reaction.

"I don't think you'd be able to show me what I'm missing, Andy," said Sara after a few moments. "Is that what you were doing in the victim's apartment though, showing her what she was missing after she dumped you? Did she laugh at you, tell you she could find better elsewhere?"

Brass and Grissom both started when they heard her taunts, but once again let her continue, feeling sure that nothing much could happen while the suspect had handcuffs secured to his wrists.

"Is that what happened, Andy? You had a meal and then found out it was to be your 'last supper' with her? How did that make you feel? Did she tell you that you weren't all that? That she could do better elsewhere?"

Andy stared at her, but stayed silent. Sara smiled a little, knowing she was really getting to him and she once again dropped her eyes to her notes to see what else she could mention. That proved to be a bad move.

Suddenly, Andy stood up and lunged forward, throwing his handcuffs over Sara's head so that the bar joining his hands was resting on the back of her neck. Sara's gasp of shock allowed him to take full advantage when he pressed his mouth to hers. His tongue invaded her mouth while Sara tried to fight him off. Her hands pushed at his chest, but that only brought the handcuffs in closer contact with her neck, hurting her, and he still had his mouth meshed with hers.

She could hear the curses from Brass and Grissom as they rushed to her aid and felt Grissom's hands on the back of her neck, trying to free her from the suspect's grasp. A way out of the situation popped into her head and she bit down on Andy's tongue, causing him to retreat it immediately and allowing Sara to close her mouth. Grissom's hands slid down to her waist and he pulled her down, so that her head slipped under the handcuffs. While Brass hauled Andy back into his seat and yelled for an officer to get into the room, Grissom dragged Sara outside.

"Are you alright?" asked Grissom worriedly as soon as they were in the corridor. His pulse was way over 95 and he could only imagine how fast Sara's was at that moment. She wouldn't meet his eyes and was bent over, her hands resting on her thighs while she caught her breath.

"I'm okay," she replied eventually. "I'm just mad I didn't see that coming and that he… well…"

"What?" prompted Grissom gently.

"Ugh, he got his tongue in my mouth!" she said with disgust. "Don't suppose you have any mouthwash on you, do you?" She looked up at him and he saw how upset she was; not tearful, but angry and annoyed with herself.

"No, but hang on," he replied, walking towards the water cooler and returning with a cup of water. He handed it to her and she drank it greedily before crushing the paper cup in her hands forcefully.

The door to the interrogation room opened and Brass stepped out, looking from Sara to Grissom. "I'm gonna stick this guy in a cell for a while to cool off. I've charged him with assault for now and we'll deal with the murder charge later. I don't think we're gonna get a confession now though, he's asked for a lawyer."

"Dammit!" muttered Sara.

"Hey, we'll get him," assured Brass. "Right now, I'm gonna go make sure he's, uh, _comfortable_." The wry grin adorning Brass's face as he walked away indicated that ensuring Andy Marx's comfort was the last thing he had in mind.

The two CSIs stood in silence for a few moments, neither sure what to say and do next. It was Grissom who finally spoke.

"Are you alright?" He was repeating his earlier question, but he was hoping to receive a more honest answer this time. When Sara didn't reply, he tried again. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

She later figured that it was delayed shock that made her answer in the way she did; she certainly would never have made such a flippant comment otherwise.

"Well, you could kiss me," she said

"What?" Grissom's face showed complete astonishment at her statement and he had no idea how to respond. The simplest option was to not respond at all, and that was exactly what he did. "Since we can't question Marx anymore, we should get back to the lab," he said, starting to walk away. Letting out a sigh, Sara followed him.

---

"We need to go over the evidence again, make sure we can convince a jury even without his confession," said Grissom as they walked into CSI. It was the first words he had spoken since they left PD and Sara was a little startled to hear his voice, but glad that he had broken the ice.

"Yeah," she agreed. "I uh… I need to take a shower though, get that guy off me, you know?" The shiver that ran through her as she thought about the kiss once more was clearly noticeable and Grissom fought the urge to pat her shoulder reassuringly.

"Okay. Come see me in my office when you're ready."

"You're not gonna be in the layout room?"

"No. Come to my office," he repeated.

"Sure. I'll grab some coffee on the way, do you want some?"

"Don't bother, come to my office as soon as you're done with your shower, you can get coffee later."

Sara looked at him in total confusion, but he refused to explain – how could he tell her that he didn't want her going near the break room in case she repeated her request for someone to kiss her so she could forget about Andy Marx?

"Okay," she finally agreed, wondering what on earth was going on – did he know something about today's coffee batch?

---

"Okay, what's so important that I'm not even allowed to get a cup of coffee? Did you think of something on the drive back?" asked Sara from her position leaned up against Grissom's office doorway.

He looked up at her and, wiping a hand across his brow, he removed his glasses for a brief moment to rub the bridge of his nose.

"No. Close the door and take a seat," he instructed, replacing his glasses and watching her as she dropped into a seat opposite him. "Did your shower help?"

"Yeah, I guess," she shrugged. "At least I don't have his smell on me anymore. I ran out of toothpaste though and Nick's not around for me to borrow his, so, well, you know…" she trailed off, uncomfortable at bringing up the fact that she needed to rid her mouth of Andy Marx's taste because it would remind her of what she had asked Grissom to do as they stood outside the interrogation room.

"I might be able to help with that," he said suddenly and Sara's eyes flew to his face, but his head was dipped as he searched through his desk drawer. Sitting up straight again, he produced a bottle of Scotch and a glass. He poured a little of the liquid into the glass and passed it to her. "This should help cleanse your pallet," he told her with a smile.

"You want me to drink?" she queried skeptically.

"It's medicinal," he replied, "and I trust you."

Sara smiled a little at his comment before bringing the glass to her lips. Throwing her head back, she let the alcohol pass down her throat and then slammed the glass onto his desk.

"I actually meant for you to swirl it around your mouth before swallowing it, not take it like a shot," said Grissom with a smirk, shaking his head at her. Sara looked up at him sheepishly, but her face morphed into a smile when she saw him pour her another drink. "Slowly this time," he stated.

Nodding her head, she picked up the glass again and took the liquid into her mouth, letting it swirl into all crevices to rid herself of any possible remnant of Andy Marx. That thought saddened her a little, as she knew this was Grissom's response to her request for him to kiss her. She finally swallowed the drink and placed the glass back onto the desk gently.

"Thanks," she said quietly.

"Brass called earlier, they're keeping Marx in a cell until tomorrow for the assault charges."

"Good."

"His lawyer is coming in tomorrow morning so we can continue questioning him about the murder."

"Okay."

"There's nothing more we can do here today, Sara and you have tonight off. I'll take you home."

She automatically started to object, until Grissom quietly reminded her that she had just drunk two shots of Scotch.

"Okay, thanks," she acquiesced with a nod of her head.

---

They made small-talk in the car, chatting about things in the lab in general and Greg's latest antics in particular. By the time they arrived at Sara's apartment, a comfortable silence had settled between them.

As she looked over at Grissom, their close proximity suddenly reminded her of how he had helped extricate her from Andy Marx's grasp earlier that day. In turn, that reminded her of Marx kissing her, which caused her to involuntarily shiver again. Grissom looked as though he was going to ask her if she was alright, but she opened the car door to prevent any questions.

His voice stopped her as she started to exit the vehicle. "Can I uh… can I use your bathroom?" he asked hesitantly.

Turning back to look at him she shrugged, "Sure," and left the car to lead the way to her apartment.

---

Grissom emerged from the bathroom to find Sara pouring coffee into mugs.

"It's instant, I'm afraid, I didn't want to wait for the proper stuff," she told him as she passed him a mug.

He nodded his head in agreement and sipped the coffee, secretly pleased that not only had she not appeared to realize that his request to use the bathroom had merely been a ruse to earn himself an invitation into her apartment, but now she was the one prolonging the visit.

Wordlessly following her to the couch, he sat down at one end, with her at the other, and they drank their coffee in silence for a while. Eventually he felt an overwhelming need to bring up the events from earlier that day.

"Did the Scotch work?"

"Excuse me?" She looked at him in confusion, her coffee mug stilling just as it met her lips.

"It was to help rid you of the taste of… well, of Marx," he reminded. "Did it work?"

"Yeah," she said hesitantly.

"But?" Her eyes met his warily and he smiled a little. "It sounded like you weren't convinced by your reply," he explained.

"It got rid of the taste, but I didn't drink enough to get it out of my head."

"Ah," he nodded. "Well, that wouldn't be a recommended course of action."

"No," she agreed. "I'll just have to put up with the nightmares," she murmured half under her breath; Grissom caught it though.

"Nightmares?"

"I've told you about them before," she stated, unwilling to clarify her statement.

"Yes, you have," he acknowledged. "They're usually about cases though."

"What, you think that having some guy pawing all over me and sticking his tongue down my throat isn't bad enough to have nightmares about?" she said indignantly, slamming her coffee mug onto the table.

"No, I…" he stumbled over his words, unsure of the right thing to say in this situation and determined not to mess it up again. "I just meant that…" He stopped and looked at her apologetically. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be demeaning." Putting his coffee mug onto the table gave him the opportunity to stall for time while he thought of something else to say.

"It's okay," she relented, her voice softening, "I'm just a little touchy right now."

"Is there anything you can do to try and prevent the nightmares? Anything I can do?" he asked her seriously, meeting and holding her gaze.

"You asked me that already today," she recalled and was surprised when he nodded instead of withdrawing. "I gave you my answer then, though you never did respond."

"No, I didn't." She stared at him, obviously taken aback that he wasn't trying to change the subject. "Do you honestly think that course of action will help?" His raised eyebrow held her curiosity for a moment while she considered her answer.

"Well, the worst that can happen is that I have a different nightmare tonight, right?" she finally replied, her own eyebrow quirking almost challengingly.

"And the best that can happen?" he queried.

Without hesitation, Sara responded, "The pleasant dreams I would have as a result would push away any nightmares."

Grissom stood up abruptly and Sara dipped her head, worried that she had scared him away. However, his hands tugging on hers convinced her otherwise and she let him pull her up before meeting his intense gaze.

"If you think it'll help," he said softly, dropping her hands so that he could cup her face. She nodded mutely, stunned into silence.

It was a soft, brief kiss, over far too soon for Sara's liking, as she didn't even get an opportunity to offer her participation.

"Uh… thanks," she said when she recovered the power of speech. Grissom's hands had dropped back to his sides, but he was still standing impossibly close, mere inches between them. "I uh, I didn't expect that," she admitted, feeling the need to say something to try and break their almost impenetrable eye connection.

"As long as it helps," he commented, his voice husky, betraying his ragged breathing.

"Yeah," she murmured. She was waiting for him to step back, as she had nowhere to go but the couch, but he didn't move.

"I wish I could say the same for me," he muttered, suddenly finding his shoes fascinating.

"What?" queried Sara in confusion.

"It wasn't enough to rid my mind of the image of Marx all over you," he said, his obvious anger at Marx shining through.

"I… I don't…," she stammered, her heart racing and her brain not providing proper power of speech.

"I couldn't believe it when I saw him lunging at you like that," he said hoarsely. "I should have been faster at getting him off you, I'm sorry." Sara started to say something, but Grissom cut her off. "My reflexes aren't what they used to be."

"Hey, you got him off me, that's the main thing," she said in almost a whisper, placing a comforting hand on his arm. "And he'll never do that to me again."

"He won't get a chance," said Grissom firmly, "you won't be anywhere near him."

"But –"

"He's being charged with assault against you, Sara, you can't question him anymore." His voice was soft again and his eyes were begging for her to accept the decision without argument.

"I know," she nodded and removed her hand from his arm.

"Does this helping thing work both ways?" he asked, his eyes following her hand as it moved away.

"Huh?"

"That was eloquent," he smirked. "What I meant was, I helped you out to rid your mind of what happened today, so will you help me rid mine?"

"Sure. What do I need to do?"

"Same as I did for you."

To say she was stunned would have been an understatement; Sara felt as though she was dreaming, while also wondering how her legs were still supporting her weight when they were shaking so badly.

"I uh… uh…"

"That's twice in two minutes that I've rendered Sara Sidle speechless, that must be a record," he mused with a grin, earning him a swat on the arm from Sara. He took full advantage and captured her hand as it made its retreat.

Sara stared at him in awe, wondering what had happened to the real Gil Grissom – had he been replaced with a pod person? He certainly wasn't acting like his usual self. She was too cautious to voice her surprise though.

"So, are you going to help me?" he asked gently. "I really don't relish the nightmares I'll have tonight otherwise."

"I've never turned down your requests for help before, have I?" she replied, cocking her head to the side, almost mimicking his own position.

Since he was still holding her hand, he easily pulled her closer towards him and then wrapped his free hand around her waist, their joined hands pressed against his chest, over his heart. Her free hand automatically found its way to the back of his neck and started playing with his hair. All further conversation was prevented as his lips meshed against hers forcefully, his tongue plunging into her mouth as soon as she granted access.

When they finally broke for air, their eyes locked and both saw their own smoldering desire reflected from the other.

"Think you'll still have nightmares?" she asked, her breath coming so fast that she could hardly speak.

"I hope not," he replied just as huskily.

"Do you want to stay, so we can make sure that neither of us have nightmares?" she said coyly, allowing a grin to form when he sent her an 'are you sure' look and then nodded. "I can think of a few more things to chase away any remnants of Andy Marx," she whispered seductively, pulling him in the direction of her bed.

---

The End


End file.
